


Watching

by Pfain Ryder (Cat_Moon)



Category: Quantum Leap
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-09 15:10:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19889881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cat_Moon/pseuds/Pfain%20Ryder
Summary: Sam's home and they're both pondering everything that's changed...and what's stayed the same.  Friendship. Loyalty. Devotion. And what of love?





	Watching

**Author's Note:**

> Published in “Leap in the Dark #2”. 1994. Original title was "Watching Al."

I leaned back in my chair a little, watching Al. He was engrossed in his report, oblivious to the intense scrutiny. His face was different somehow in concentration. Even in the artificial lighting deep within the Project, it seemed smoother than I had ever seen it, as if years of worry had been lifted away. Which, pretty much, summed it up.

Things had already gone almost back to normal since I'd finally leaped home last week. Well, almost. I couldn't recall ever spending this much time watching Al before. Yet, when I wasn't watching Al, Al was watching me. I could often feel his eyes on me, staring as if afraid I was going to vanish any moment. Understandable. It was my fascination which was so odd.

I smiled softly at the lack of stress in my friend's posture. When Al had first come to me as a hologram, I had no memory to serve as a guide for the man before me. Only now could I put the two Al's side by side. The man I remembered; and the one engrossed in his report, with a forgotten mug of coffee at his side. It was the RoadKill Cafe mug I'd given him for some holiday or another. I was still a little fuzzy on some of the details. The Al who laughed easily, with eyes that always sparkled with life. And the other man, the one with the worry lines etched into his face, the pain in the dark, usually red eyes. The one I'd created.

I shifted in my seat, uncomfortably. It always made me feel guilty to remember that. But it was undeniably true. Al Calavicci had devoted the last six years of his life to being there for me. Gone without sleep, sometimes without food. Practically living in the Imaging Chamber without a break.

He devoted his life...to me.

It was an odd thought, somehow making me uneasy. Well, it was certainly a first. Even Beth, the only woman he'd really loved, hadn't been able to pry Al away from his other interests. She'd come third, and admitted it. His career was his life in those days. I didn't have to guess what came first with Al now, he'd proved it over and over--for six years.

_I'm his life..._

These weird thoughts were coming more and more frequently, and my unease was growing proportionately. I shook himself out of my revelry abruptly, grabbing my own coffee mug for a fortifying gulp of the lukewarm liquid.

Al seemed to hear the movement. He looked up from his work, following my lead and bringing the mug to his lips. His grimaced as he swallowed, setting the cup out of reach on the desk.

"Yuck." Al made his pronouncement on the subject of cold coffee, and stretched. He glanced at the mug as if hoping it would miraculously transform into a steaming new cup, then shrugged.

"When was it I gave you that mug?" I asked, nodding at it.

Al picked it up, glancing at the writing as if he hadn't seen it a million times. **Roadkill Cafe. You kill 'em, we grill 'em. New Mexico.** The back had a fanciful menu, with items like Amtrak Elk, and Poodles 'n' Noodles featured. I'd thought it fit Al's sense of bizarre humor when I'd bought it. Although, despite overwhelming odds, Al had never actually ran over anything on the highway--except an occasional tumble weed. And, as Al had pointed out to me, they were suicidal anyway.

I grinned at the memories, feeling free. I was home, and every boring, mundane thing was special and wondrous.

"Valentines Day," Al answered.

"Huh?" I looked up at him, having lost the thread of conversation.

"You bought the mug for me for Valentines day."

"We exchanged Valentines day presents?" I said, not quite sure if I'd spoken aloud.

Al shrugged, answering that question. "It was your idea."

"What'd you get me?"

Al colored, just a little. "A box of candy."

I couldn't help it, my eyebrows rose.

"It was a gag gift," Al explained. "You practically inhaled them," he added with a touch of reproach. "I only managed to get two of them for myself." He shrugged again. "You had to be there."

"I was."

"Yeah, well, you're still swissed."

"I am not!" I defended. Okay, so I was rather touchy on the subject. "I can't help it if I have dozens of timelines to sort out."

"I didn't say you could," Al replied mildly. Just like he always did to my bouts of temper. Only there was a difference now. It was...more genuine.

It's almost like getting to know a stranger all over again, I mused. I was fast coming to realize the Al in the Imaging Chamber wasn't the real Al. Circumstances forced Al to take on a role, play a part, almost as much as I had been forced to do. He'd changed, to be sure we'd both grown over the years. We'd built a friendship on the new Sam and Al. Two different people. Now that I was home, the old personalities were coming out again. We were re-establishing the old friendship.

Al got up to get himself a fresh cup of coffee, looking the question at me. I shook my head negative. We didn't really need words to communicate, not any more. At least not most of the time. Those times when we _couldn't_ read each other's minds proved momentously catastrophic.

I pretended to go back to my work, watching out of the corner of my eye as Al sat down with his coffee and returned to his report. Strange as it all was, this part of coming home I could deal with just fine. It was the other stuff that had thrown me for a loop, and guaranteed at least four months with Beeks in the process.

The other timelines.

Most of it I didn't remember, nor did I have any particular desire to. It was just unnerving to realize the many variations my life had taken. The changes I'd put myself--and others--through. The original, where Al and I had worked on the Project together, until I took that fateful leap. Then there was one where Donna Elesee had been part of it. And one where we were married and divorced...even one where I was married to Tamlyn. Most of them hadn't lasted a hell of a long time. And to me, leaping in time, they didn't exist at all.

It must have been tough on Al. Again, I looked at my friend. What Al had gone through, I couldn't begin to imagine. And Al flat out refused to discuss it. Yet, while I was leaping, I'd rarely taken a moment to think of someone besides myself. Al had never gotten angry--well, almost never--was always there for me, with understanding and...and love.

 _You love me,_ I thought at the bowed, dark head.

Yet, when I'd finally returned home, none of those timelines existed. Things had gone back to the way they'd been originally. There was no Donna, no Tom or Tamlyn. No one...except Al.

As always.

As I stared at Al, an impossible thought lodged itself firmly in my mind.

 _The odds. Think of the odds..._ How many timelines were there? Ten? Twenty? I'd scanned the reports, but had I really seen all of them? I now glanced at Al with narrowed eyes. Would he even tell me?

_That out of all these timelines..._

_What are the odds?_

I jumped up, startling Al out of his concentration. He watched me for a moment. "You've got a bee up your bonnet again," he grinned, just slightly.

No one knew Sam Beckett like Al Calavicci. "I--I've got this theory I want to check out..."

"Care to share it?" Al said casually, but the almost fear in his eyes belayed the casualness with which it was said.

 _Poor Al._ "I'm not going to do anything stupid," I assured him, knowing I was right when Al quickly turned his head away. "I promise."

Al looked at me again, met my eyes. _You said that the last time,_ his gaze told me.

"I'll be back soon. I'm sorry," I whispered ineffectually. "For everything..."

I left the office to seek out a private consultation with Ziggy. Unfortunately, the computer was unable...or, more likely, unwilling, to give me the answers to the questions that plagued me now. It seemed there was only one person I'd get those answers from.

Al Calavicci.

**AL** :

I don't know when it started, or even when I first became aware of the intense scrutiny I was giving Sam. Yes, it was my job, as Project Observer. But this was...deeper.

In the beginning of course, I saw the person Sam leaped into, not Sam. But a simple adjustment to the neural link fixed that up, and for the next few years, I watched Sam. His face, always expressive, mirrored his feelings like a crystal ball. I saw all of his pain, his joy and sorrow, even, sometimes, his passion. I got to know the man intimately, not just his personality, it even seemed like I was inside Sam's soul. Maybe it was because touch was impossible and talk too easy to screw up. Sometimes the signals got crossed.

I was an avid Sam watcher. Seeing him in the beginning, so uncertain and innocent, watching him grow and mature before my eyes. Seeing him turn those big, suddenly vulnerable eyes on me...the pain, trickling down his face and reaching across the years between us.

Now his face was clear and untroubled, at peace. Home. We were at his apartment in Stallion Springs, the Project Community. The wave of nostalgia was mixed with something born of five years of quantum leaping, as we'd kicked back in front of the TV with light beer, microwave popcorn, and a few movies in the VCR. Sam had a lot of movies to catch up on. Something he'd wanted to do for days, only now finding time away from all his duties.

Now though, the end of the night was almost upon us. The movies had been watched, the popcorn eaten. Time to mellow out, with the stereo playing softly in the background. Talk was sparse, enjoyment of the togetherness more important.

Sam caught my eyes on him and smiled. I automatically smiled back. Our eyes held, he was the first to look away. I continued to watch. I'd been privileged to see what few had, or ever would. The soul of the man. Did he know I could feel his soul? Could he feel mine?

I shook my head, laughing to myself. Guess I was getting a little fanciful in my old age.

"What's so funny?" Sam inquired quietly.

"I am," I answered.

He gave me one of his cute, bemused puppy expressions, head tilted to one side. I had the urge to scratch him behind the ears.

"I dated this Gypsy fortune-teller once," I began.

The perplexed puppy got even more bemused. I had to admit, I was way out in left field tonight. The combination of beers, companionship I'd never take for granted again...my thoughts were wandering like clouds on a lazy, breezy spring day.

"Let me guess, she had the biggest set of crystal balls?" Sam said, with the affectionately tolerant look that was mine alone.

I sat back, putting my feet up on the coffee table. "She did use a crystal ball," I said. "It reminded me of your eyes."

Look #57. Important, but I couldn't define it in words. Some of them were like that. This one was elusive, open yet full of mystery.

Sam smiled slightly. "Can you see the future in my eyes?"

"Nothing so trivial."

"How about the past? No, I suppose not. I'm not sure I have the past in here anymore." Eyes meaningful. He wasn't sure of his past anymore, after all the changes we wrought.

"Me either," I told him reassuringly. _You're not alone. Never, as long as I'm here._

"Al..."

"Doesn't matter," I cut him off. "It's still in here," I pointed to my chest.

Surprise. I didn't think it was possible, but this one stumped me. I couldn't define in words or feelings, the play of expressions which passed over his face. Then, he looked like he was going to speak, and I finally recognized something. Confusion.

He silently dismissed whatever it was. "I'll get us two more beers."

I was intrigued, fascinated. Here was something I'd never seen, and my curiosity was bubbling over. I had to know what that new expression meant.

I followed Sam into the kitchen, standing by the door as he opened the refrigerator for the beer. I suddenly had a flashback to the leap where he'd found out Tom was dead. A memory that hadn't happened.

_It ain't much, but you've got me..._

To break it, I leaned against the door frame. Sam glanced at me and I could tell our minds were on the same thing. From the other room, _The Flame_ by Cheap Trick floated in to us. "I missed you," I told him.

I had a feeling my left-field flies were starting to get to him. Poor guy never knew what was coming. Like I did? I might just as well have been talking nonsense. But after years of only talking business at hand, rarely a free moment for a few stray words, it felt good.

His eyes were unfathomable again.

"What are you thinking?" I asked, giving in to my curiosity.

Sam shook his head, handing me a beer and closing the door, but didn't answer. "You never told me what my eyes have in common with a crystal ball."

A shiver ran up my spine, even though the temperature was quite comfortable. I opened my mouth to speak, but knew I'd feel silly, if I tried to explain it. I shrugged. "I've just learned to read you...pretty well."

A sadness tinged his features. "I wish I could say the same of you."

Timeline troubles again. "You could start by telling me what's on your mind tonight," I said, leading the way back to the living room.

Eyes furtive, seeking escape. I had to solve this enigma.

"When we were talking about knowing the past, inside. Tell me what you were thinking, and I'll tell you about the crystal ball."

Sam gave me a pleading look. "Are there any timelines I don't know about?"

"You know that doesn't matter. The only thing that does is the here and now."

"Yes, but..." he looked away and bit his lip. Not the answer he needed.

"Is there anything specific you're referring to?"

"I just wondered...well, there have been so many changes. Yet, no matter what changed in my life, you were here, like always. There was still you and me, like always."

_Some things were meant to be._

Was there a question in there? Oh, of course, the obvious. "You and I were both outside the timeline changes, you know that. Our memories are from the original one." I could tell my answer wasn't good enough. He wanted something, some answer or something I couldn't give him, at least he didn't believe I could. Maybe it wasn't so obvious.

"You're right, I just have to get used to all this again."

He was dismissing the topic completely. Did I err that much? What was he trying to tell me? "What is it, Sam? What are you asking?"

"I thought you could read me," he challenged.

"Okay, want me to tell you exactly what I'm reading?" He wasn't so sure, but he nodded anyway. "You want something of me, but you won't tell me what. You want me to figure it out on my own, but you're convinced I won't. I can read your emotions Sam, not your mind."

"Maybe you don't know me as well as you thought you did."

I'm not sure his motivations for saying it, but it got to my ego just enough to make me determined. "Let's see...you asked me if there were any timelines you didn't know about. Then you asked, well, mentioned about us not changing. You're asking if there was a timeline where we weren't friends, or..." He gazed at me silently, waiting for me to figure it out on my own. "...the reason I said your eyes reminded me of crystal balls is because I can see your soul in them."

Still, he didn't speak, just watched me with bright eyes.

"You don't believe me?" I whispered, feeling myself slip beneath the surface of twin pools. "You wanted me to know you, well I want you to be able to see _my_ soul, too. Can you see my soul, Sam?" I asked, saying with my eyes what words would spoil.

It seemed like an eternity that we gazed into each others eyes, asking and answering questions; telling secrets and revealing truths.

"Who...'s gonna make the first move?" Sam asked in a subdued, shaky voice.

I grinned at him. "On the count of three?" I suggested.

He came to me then; well, pounced on me, more like. I would have made the analogy of an affectionate puppy, except for he steady hum of something deeper, non-innocent, vibrating between us. A hug, than a shy kiss. Soon, we weren't shy anymore.

"Do you still want me to answer your question?" I asked while getting used to the feel of strong muscles under hands that had only known soft curves.

Sam shook his head. "You were right. None of those timelines matter anymore. The only thing that does is _now_."

I shook my head, slipping my hand into his shirt. Another novel sensation. "That's not the only thing." My other hand tilted his chin up, so I could study his face. "I see something else in your eyes now, something new." Something I hadn't realized was missing all those years, until I saw it now.

His grin got wider...and slightly evil. "I'm sure you do."

"Did you know puppies are in the lion family," I said conversationally, leaning forward so he could slip my shirt down.

"That's the cat family," he told me with 'that' look.

"Whatever."

"You haven't told me what's new in my eyes," he reminded, insinuating himself onto my lap.

I grabbed his head between my hands, holding it in place and looking deep into his eyes. "The future."

"Who's?"

"Ours..."

"Kiss me."

I gladly obliged, and we continued far into the night, abandoned words in favor of a better form of communication. In all the lessons we both learned while Sam was leaping through time putting other people's lives right, we'd finally understood the most important one of all.

Some things were meant to be.

**the end**

8/7/93


End file.
